Yet such is the perversity of human nature that I hungered for what I could never have and dreamed of the impossible ~ Wilbur Smith
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, feeling the pungent earthen herbs saturate her taste buds, and reclining into her seat, she let the familiar wave of euphoria wash over her.
Letting out a cloud of smoke, the hint of a wry smile lingered on the edge of her lips, as she brought the small roll back to her mouth.
Delicate lips thin, beneath an aquiline nose, and slightly furrowed brows, with high cheek bones and an unruly mop of curls atop.
Almond- chocolate skin over a lithe build, she’d never call herself beautiful although she was.
A cat, lay sprawled across her lap, with its ginger colored fur caressed gently by her left hand. It stretched, extending paws outward in a lazy arc, it’s head purred once and contentedly continued its slumber.
“Cthulu” she whispered, eyes still closed and the cat purred again.
She took another another puff, and leaning forward gently, reached for a small glass of whiskey on the table in front of her, held it a moment, and brought it to her lips.
She drank deeply, allowing it’s smooth, glowing heat down her throat before settling with a warmth in her bosom.
“I fucking needed this” she said aloud. She didn’t expect a response, she sat alone in a garden filled with flowers and trees and the memories of last night’s gathering.
An ash-filled tray, littered with cigarette butts, was one of a jumble of items strewn about the table.
Half empty beer cans, plastic wrappers, a discarded lighter and a cigarette packet completed the ensemble.
A litany of bad choices she thought.
Bad choices. That had been the theme of last night’s discussion.
Bad choices about everything. About the job that sucked at times but paid the bills for the house that sucked at times but kept her sane and about the bad choices about her ex, and the guy she’d thought would make her get over him.
I wonder, she thought yet again, what an ex over an ex is?
“A question for another day aye Cthulu” she smiled as she rubbed the cats ears.
She placed the remnants of the roll she’d been smoking and slowly reached for the bottle of scotch beside her foot. She’d purposely kept it hidden from everyone else last night, opting instead for their revelry to end earlier than usual.
“It’s almost midnight” she’d announced loudly “I need you’s to drive home safe and text me when you’re home OK?”
Approving murmurs followed before one by one her guests had left.
She poured herself a generous supply of whiskey and took another sip, this time more controlled as she felt her mind slowly drift.
She recalled the first of the arguments. It had been something trivial, and then something else the same. And the rolling snowball eventually evolved into avalanche of rage and unchecked words.
“I love you!” he’d screamed, “how many times must I say that?”
“I don’t need the words of a worshipper at the alter of some temple ” she’d hit back.
“Words mean something” he replied.
“So do actions” was her soft response as she’d left.
The days had dragged into months then almost a year, as she settled into routine. It was an almost automatic monotony, punctuated with sporadic alcoholic reprieve.
Sometimes it helped. Sometimes she thought. Other times, she’d find herself staring into empty space momentarily, before shaking off the dregs of lingering despair and carry about her day.
But the toll had been taken and taxed.
“The only debts you have are the ones you owe yourself” a friend had told her.
He was right mostly… sometimes she smiled.
She recalled that conversation too, of a man broken, where rage had once turned to tears, and then sullenly replaced with acceptance and now contentment.
“I used to fantasise about rejecting the apologies I knew would never come, now, I don’t have time for it, depression is a luxury I can’t afford” her friend had grinned then.
She grinned now, and took another sip, longer this time.
Her cat stretched again, before shaking it’s coat and jumping off her lap.
She watched it saunter off and leaned back into her seat again.
The mid morning sun’s rays filtered through the trees overhead there were patches of light where once had been shadows.
She shook the packet of cigarettes and was delighted to find there three sticks of tobacco in it. She now hoped the lighter worked.
Just like everything else in this fucking country she thought wryly.
A flame shot up on the first strike as she lit a cigarette.
She closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply and leaned back into her seat.